A fat Accountant rides the Tube
in pinstripe grey with shiny shoes,
plates of meat (at least Thirteen’s)
while on his left an Indian woman;
petite, squashes her arm against
the carriage wall and to his right
a youth, skeletal, struggles with cookpots,
equally squashed, in orange boxes
balancing high a free newspaper,
flicking, flicking pages quickly
while big-man glances right and left,
sniffs and leans, holds a fuse:
Canary Wharfe, London Bridge,
Burmandsey, Southwark, into Waterloo.
Great detail..finely written
ReplyDeleteI love the detail also. It is a compressed bit of reality. Reminds me of the bus rides in Los Angeles. I feel real life in here and it is good.
ReplyDeleteExcellent title. Even better. Perfect!
ReplyDeletelove the poem
ReplyDeleteAs always, I'm so astounded by what you write. You are so fearless about the topics you chose to write about and I greatly admire you for that. Thank you for sharing little pieces of your heart and soul over the years. A very blessed and merry Christmas to you, John. -Tay Hastings ( @ApocalyptiGirl )
ReplyDelete